


Brother Keeping

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Autism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, Sibling Bonding, Touch-Starved, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: I wanted to write something cute, did it work?Vergil hasn't been shown affection in 15 years, 25 if you mean genuine affection. It's time he and Dante cuddledlike they did when they were kids.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	Brother Keeping

Vergil's hands were in fists at his sides or his arms were crossed over his chest, or they were gripping Yamato like he was afraid of losing her. Dante noticed it and he said nothing, it was just how he held himself, it wasn't something that needed to be mentioned. Still, he was stuffy and it would be so easy to joke about him loosening up a little. And he didn't. He joked about a lot of things, it was how he got through things, how he stopped the silence, how he got the corner of Vergil's mouth to curl up, how he got Nero to punch him in the shoulder with a dumpy grin, how he got Trish and Lady to stop asking him invasive questions like, was he eating well or was he sleeping. 

Vergil always stood just outside of range for comfort. Most of the time, when people spoke to one another, they were about three feet apart. Vergil was always four. He didn't make eye contact, he never had unless he was actively trying to be intimidating, but this was somewhat different. This was almost like he was shy. Paired with how he never started a conversation, even though he opened his mouth enough to show that he was thinking to, made it apparent that he was. He'd never been shy before but now, Dante was sure he just didn't know what to talk about, what was appropriate. 

He was strange, as a child. They only had each other, it wasn't like Dante would be able to compare him to anyone else, but Vergil would find a topic that he was interested and go off about it, there was no shutting him up once he was excited. It wasn't something that kids were into either, it would be ruins or poetry or the insects that lived in the garden. He knew more about those bugs than Dante was able to learn from him. But now he was quiet and only gave information when he was asked for it and wanted, desperately to talk to Nero but he couldn't get started with it. 

He was awkward and uncomfortable and Dante didn't know how to make it less so for him. 

There were times in which Vergil's hands weren't clasped or folded, when he reached out and stopped himself just before touching, pulling his hand back as if he was afraid of getting caught. There were times in which he leaned over, as if to bump his shoulder with someone's but he was too far away for that. Maybe that was the point. Maybe that was why he was so distant, so closed off, he didn't want to make the mistake of normal human contact. 

"You got cooties or something, old man?" Dante chuckled on of the times that he noticed it, though Vergil looked ready to bolt at Dante's laugh. 

"Don't be foolish, Dante," Vergil grimaced, "You know you have a full layer of grease on you. When's the last time you showered." 

Dante thought on that. And then he thought a bit more. It had been a while, at least, so maybe he couldn't blame Vergil for that. "I've gone longer!" 

Vergil grit his teeth and took another step away from him. "That's not something to brag about."

"Well at least I'm not covered in blood this time?" 

Vergil knew what he was talking about, he had to, that month under the Qliphoth, coated in human blood, or the two months in Hell, covered in his own and demon's blood. Both were his fault and, as much as Dante liked to needle him for it, it was clear that he hated it. He didn't care about the human lives that were lost, that was too broad a spectrum to truly fathom, but the damage to the city, the way he'd lied, how cowardly he had been to come to Dante as V instead of himself. He regretted the wrong parts. 

"What are you doing with your hands?" 

Vergil stopped doing with his hands. He had been looking at them, watching the way that they moved without his control. "It's nothing to trouble yourself with." 

"You're all I trouble myself with," Dante sighed, "Come on, you've been acting weird ever since we got back." 

Vergil shrugged, "It's nothing." 

Dante rolled his eyes. "It's something. It's always something." 

Vergil looked around the room. The shop was empty, aside from them and a few devil arms, but they were all being quiet for the moment. Dante had threatened to sell them if they were too noisy and had done it before, would do it again as long as Vergil didn't see. 

"Just." Vergil breathed. He held it. His hands were in fists at his sides. He looked Dante over. "If I do something out of character would you hold it against me?"

"What? Vergil, you could be the exact bastard you've always been and I'd hold it against you. It's my job." 

Vergil crossed his arms. This wasn't working as well as Dante had hoped. How could it? Dante couldn't help himself. Anytime he could make a joke out of something he was guaranteed to. 

He took a step forward, three feet. Vergil's eyes were on the floor. "Hey, I won't make fun of you in front of anyone else, alright? Only when it's the two of us." 

Vergil breathed some more. He was mulling it over. He could mull for a long time. Dante didn't want to stand there all day while he mulled. But it was only around half a minute before he nodded to himself. 

"Can you close your eyes for me?" 

Dante put his hands up, but when they got close to Vergil's shoulders he put that normal uncomfortable distance between them. "Hey, hey, you're not going to stab me, right?" 

Vergil just squinted at him, head cocked. "If I was going to stab you I would want your eyes open. I want you to know I'm coming." 

"Right right, you'd never fight dirty or cheap like that," Dante teased. He did close his eyes though. Whatever this was it had Vergil uncomfortable, had him on the edge, and Dante wanted him to stay so badly, wanted to be trusted, to be trustworthy. So if closing his eyes would help he would do it. 

He could hear Vergil's steps as he closed the distance between them, could feel his breath against his face. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to know what Vergil was doing. 

Vergil's hands were surprisingly warm when they cupped Dante's face. He started on Dante's cheeks and then his thumbs swept up over the bones to the temples, his fingers traced all the lines in Dante's face, gently padded around his eyes and stroked his eyelashes before his thumb pads danced over his eyebrows.   
It felt strange, to stand there, he didn't know what to do with his own hands. He wanted to touch Vergil back, but he didn't know if that was allowed. It felt good though, he could feel where Vergil had touched after he had moved onto another place. His hands went through Dante's hair and Dante let his mouth fall open. No one touched his hair like this, ran their hands through it as if petting him. 

There was something else against his forehead something slightly damp, pressure, and then nothing. Vergil's hands left his face and Dante felt floaty and light. He blinked his eyes open and they felt sticky but not as sticky as Vergil's. He'd taken a few steps back and was rubbing at his eyes, which were just the barest bit red on the sides. 

"Thank you," Vergil breathed. 

"What was that?" 

Vergil shook his head, "When's the last time I touched you with my hands?"

"Oh," Dante exhaled. He was staring at Vergil and Vergil was staring at the ground and he wanted to teleport away, Dante could see that because he knew Dante was going to say something stupid. Instead, he bit his tongue. This was something new, this was something special. 

He couldn't remember the last time Vergil had touched him with his hands, couldn't remember the last time he'd touched Vergil with his own. Their contact was at a swords length. 

"When's the last time someone touched you, Vergil?" Dante asked and he hated the way his voice sounded, soft and gentle and kind. It wasn't like him at all; his bravado was all gone. 

Vergil looked at his hands again. He wasn't wearing his gloves, oftentimes didn't when they weren't on a job. He brushed his thumb across the length of each finger, down one and then up the other. 

"Atop the roots of the Qliphoth."

Dante shook his head, that couldn't have been right. He could have sworn he'd touched Vergil at some point, had helped him up when he'd fallen in Hell. But he hadn't. Vergil wasn't one to misremember things. 

"That was a punch to the face, not being touched," Dante corrected but that meant it was worse. 

"Then..." Vergil frowned, "Mallet Island." 

Dante stared at him. "That was 15 years ago." 

Vergil grimaced. He did that thing with his hands again. 

"Vergil." 

"It's fine," Vergil spoke quickly, cutting him off, "It's a waste of time and energy. You don't need to worry about me." 

"No." He put out his hand and Vergil stopped, a few inches away from it. "No, you're going to let me worry, alright?" 

Vergil glanced at him for a moment. "What do you plan to do about it?"

"Take off your jacket?" 

"What?" 

"Take. Off. Your. Jacket." Dante repeated, "Don't make me cut it off of you, I know how you feel when I mess with your things." 

Vergil groaned, rolled his neck so that it popped, and took off his jacket. It was a simple motorcycle jacket but it still looked classy because of the stupidly ornate dress shirt underneath. This was his idea of casual. 

Dante made his way to the couch that was placed beneath a window, navy blue and faded from the sunlight. There were piles of books on demons and Hell and magic in neat piles on either side. Just a few months ago they'd been littered over the floor in his moments of frenzied research, left where they were by the long stints of depression. He'd pick it up again soon, there was a tickle at the back of his throat, a feeling he'd learned to trust that something big was coming. 

He flopped down on the couch. "Come on," he said, patting his knee, "Get over here." 

"You want me to sit with you?" Vergil asked, incredulously. 

"Not exactly."

Vergil did come over and he walked slow, very different from his usual brisk pace. When he drew close enough Dante reached out and grabbed his wrist, ignoring the flash of blue over Vergil's head. Let him be stabbed by one of Vergil's summoned swords, he didn't care, this was far more important. He pulled on Vergil's wrist enough to turn him, to mess with his balance so that he landed, with much less elegance than Vergil would have preferred, in Dante's lap. 

"What are you doing?" Vergil hissed, fighting to get away. 

Dante wrapped his arms around Vergil, keeping him where he was. He immediately froze and, for a moment, Dante was terrified. He was trying to make this good for Vergil, trying to help, but he didn't know if this was what Vergil wanted, it wasn't something he'd ever admitted to wanting. But he was human, as much as he argued against it, and humans needed to be touched. They needed to be loved. 

"Remember when we were kids?" Dante asked. Vergil relaxed, a little. "You always acted like you hated being touched but you were always the one that ran to mom first for a hug. You didn't like any rough fabrics against your skin and you hated the feeling of wet cotton but you wanted to be touched all the time, to the point that you'd ignore the textures you hated for it."

Vergil was shaking then, still not looking at Dante but with his head turned away. 

"We'd cuddle up in bed and you'd read poetry to me like you were dad reading us a bedtime story." 

The shaking worsened. 

"Come on, let me touch you," Dante urged, flattening his hand against Vergil's back. "You don't have to pretend you don't like it." 

Vergil was stroking his fingers but he stopped and grabbed a hold of Dante's shirt, pulling himself closer into Dante's lap. He buried his face in Dante's neck and tried to be silent, Dante could tell, but he could also feel Vergil's features tense and stretch as the sobs wracked his body. Dante didn't mention them, he didn't wipe them away, he just started to run his hands up and down Vergil's back. He started to hum an old metal song as he did it, turning the thrashing guitar into a gentle almost country melody. 

They were like that for a long time, well past the time that Dante's legs went numb. At some point Dante unbuttoned Vergil's cuffs and folded the sleeves up to the elbow, so that he could play with Vergil's fingers and stroke his arms. Vergil eventually grew tired of crying and switched over to the dry side of Dante's shirt, just sort of dozing in and out while he was touched. Dante had expected his skin to be cold, his icy personality bleeding through his flesh but he was so alive and warm and present. 

"You feeling a bit better?" Dante asked, checking the clock across the room from them. They could do this for a few more minutes but Nero was due to be back pretty soon." 

Vergil nodded, sheepishly. "You won't tell?" 

"I won't," Dante ruffled his hair, absolutely destroying the style, "but I think you should be a little more touchy feely with your son. I think he could use it." 

"Can-" Vergil bit his lip and looked at his hand as it gripped at Dante's shirt again, "Can we do this again, sometime?" 

Dante chuckled, "Liked it that much did you?" 

"Not your stubble, that's deplorable."

"If I shave will you sit and read to me?" 

Vergil looked him over. His eyes were much more red now and a little bit puffy. "You never got past a third grade reading level, did you?" 

"I read!" Dante pouted, "Look at all these books! I read!"

"Have you finished any of them?" Vergil laughed. That was a rare sound. 

Dante pushed him off of his lap in feigned frustration. "Their research! Not fun reading!"

"Not like your porno mags?"

"They're gun magazines!"

"Is there really a difference to you?" 

With that Dante was up with long strides across the lobby floor, hands raised in surrender. "Whatever. I'm going to get some work done before the away team comes back."

Vergil harrumphed and turned on the couch, stretching out on it lengthwise, arms folded beneath his head. He was staring up at the ceiling but his body language said he'd be asleep soon. Dante hadn't seen him sleep in years either, assumed Vergil didn't trust him enough for that. He wanted things to change, he didn't think they would so soon. 

"Dante," Vergil sighed, his eyes closed. "Thank you." 

And Dante smiled, a real smile. Things were strange but nothing had been that strange yet. Nothing had been so right either.


End file.
